Perfection
by kyliecooper8
Summary: Rory Gilmore Hayden had a perfect life, what with an amazing boyfriend, miraculous best friends, intelligence, wealth and status to die for, and looks to kill. What happens when somebody comes along to rock that perfect world?
1. Chapter 1

Lorelai Leigh Gilmore-Hayden was, in plain words, a perfectionist. She was in control of, not just her life, but everyone and everything in it. Not only that, she had the perfect existence, too. Seventeen years old with all the freedom in the world and wealth and status to match. Her parents married after the scandalous pregnancy in their high school years and not only loved each other, but were soul mates.

She attended dinner at her grandparent's house every Friday night, sometimes with but most times without her parents. She had three best friends and a miraculous boyfriend. She was in the run for valedictorian and was editor-in-chief of _The Franklin_. She had it made. Living in a two million dollar house and driving a cherry red Ferrari helped her out a bit, too.

She achieved popularity, not by being mean spirited but by being a nice kid. People liked her. She was crazy charismatic and smart to boot. And guys just liked to look at her.

She was born into a life that was tradition, old money if you will. Her grandfather's insurance business changed the sum of her inheritance but, compared to the original trust fund, was unimportant. Her family was your average, blue-blooded, white collared WASP's, tracing their lineage right off the Mayflower.

Yes, Rory was seemingly perfect in every way and form, but every once in awhile, a life so perfect has to be shaken up a bit.

"Rory, darling, please don't be late. What will Headmaster Charleston think?" a voice yelled from a floor below.

The girl in question rolled her eyes. _Charleston__ can bite my ass_, Rory thought.

She slid the navy headband into her hair, smoothing the fly-aways with her fingers. Her deep chestnut hair flowed down her back in light ripples, barely even enough to be considered wavy. It hit the middle of her waist. She accented her bright blue eyes with heavy mascara, making them pop.

"Yeah, I'm leaving mom."

Before grabbing her backpack, Rory checked her reflection. Every piece of clothing was in place; her tie straight, her skirt just above the knee, her oxford tucked in precisely, and her navy blazer buttoned. She leaned down to fix an awry knee sock and then nodded her head. Another perfect day.

About to walk out the door, Rory stopped and grabbed her sunglasses off the oak table to the side of the hallway. Black Chanel. Her favorite. Just as she grasped the monstrous silver door handle, a voice came from the parlor. "Don't leave your things lying around. I like to keep a tidy house."

_Caught!_ Rory peeked into the richly furnished room and stared at her mother. Dressed in a hounds-tooth blazer, her hair perfectly coiffed at seven in the morning, sat Lorelai Gilmore-Hayden rifting through her appointment book. Her pearls sat tidily in place around her thin throat, as she poised her pen above the leather bound book.

"Yeah, alright mom," Rory replied. "I'll see you when I get home."

"What do you have after school today?" came the response.

Rory silently groaned. Her mother was just playing her. Of course she knew every activity going on her perfect daughter's life. However, Rory still tolerated it. "I have the Franklin directly after school. Then I'm meeting Paris for coffee at around three-thirty. After that, I'm meeting grandpa at the club for a round of golf."

_Now can I just go! _

"Alright, make sure you're home in enough time to wash up for dinner. It's at seven, you know." She sniffed, continued to write in her planner.

"Alright, Mom." _Not like we haven't had dinner at the same time every day since my birth, Mom._ "See you tonight."

"Have a nice day at school, dear."

Free! Rory gathered her backpack and her Chanel tote in her arms and quickly exited the pristine white, three-story home, complete with pillars. It looked like a house from the Civil War ages. Which was strange in itself, considering the Hayden's lived in Hartford, Connecticut.

Rory plucked her keys out of her purse and plopped down into her sports car. It was a present for turning seventeen. She wondered what her gift would be for her eighteenth birthday. A townhouse?

The short drive to Chilton Academy flew by, as Rory played indistinct rap on her car stereo. She had stopped at the Starbucks on the corner and ordered her usual, only two cups instead of one. She had already drank one and planned on finishing the other on her walk to homeroom, as she turned into the student lot of her school.

Rory strode through the huge mahogany doors of the mansion-like preparatory academy and made her way up the stairs to her locker. As she sipped her coffee, black, a short girl walked in step with her, struggling with her armload of books.

"I swear the chauvinistic pigs, parading around as the male students of this school, are absolutely absurd. They honestly think that a horny come-on and a clandestine glance my way will magically convince me to date them. Ridiculous!"

"Hey, Paris."

"Hey, Hayden."

Paris Gellar stopped short at their lockers, conveniently side by side, and began loading her books inside. "I hate high school boys."

"That's only because you're dating a college boy. You do realize there is only a year's difference between Jamie and the so called 'chauvinistic pigs' asking you out?"

"He is so much more mature than them, it's unbelievable. You're lucky Tristan isn't as stupid as the bunch of idiots he spends his quality time with."

"Yeah, I am."

They headed to homeroom, Rory toting her Chanel and drinking her coffee, Paris still fuming and ranting. They slid into their seats just as the tardy bell rang and sat through un-entertaining morning announcements, broadcasted on the plasma television in the top corner of the room.

As Mr. Medina took role, Rory realized something. _Senior year is going to be over in less than two months. _It was thrilling. She had waited all of her high school career to finally be on top of the secondary school food chain and now it was almost finished.

Rory thought back to the summer before. What a summer it had been. She had spend most of her time with Tristan and her group of friends, going to parties and taking vacations at the Hayden's house in Martha's Vineyard. The gang had gone to beach parties at the Cape, gone to fancy dinners in their best, attended parties at the country club, and just chilled all over Hartford. She was thankful of the leniency her parent's dealt her, plus the cash flow.

The bell rang for first period and she and Paris entered the hallway. The F through J's were grouped in one homeroom, so Rory came out to find Tristan waiting for her, with his friends. She smiled. Tristan DuGrey was one man. Blonde hair, falling long about his face and ears, as was the newest craze in boy's hairstyle, and deep blue eyes stood in front of her, gleaming with those perfect teeth of his. Their relationship was one that was relished at the club by the grownups. Her mother, especially, believed after high school, the teenage couple would marry.

"Hello darling," Rory said, smiling at him.

Tristan grabbed her hand and pecked her on the cheek. "Why didn't you call me back last night, babe? I called two times on your cell and once at home. Rosalita picked up and I think she swore at me in Mexican."

Rory laughed, waving goodbye to Paris, as they sauntered down the hallway to Physics. "One, I was studying. You should have figured that. Two, Rosalita is Guatemalan, Tristan. Get it right."

"What, no three?"

She grinned, "Three is take me out this weekend. Louise is having a party and half of the public schools will be there."

"Ah, the public schools. Always a good laugh. And of course, I'll take you out this weekend, you're my honey bunny," he replied, leaning in for a kiss.

Rory laughed, responding to him. His lips were soft and his mouth tasted of coffee. However, she faltered for a second, wondering why it lacked in its usual fireworks. They pulled apart and continued down the hallway.

"Tristan, I'm not sure you should call me that in public. What would the lacrosse team say?" She laughed, pulling her purse higher on her shoulder.

"They'd say, 'Hot damn, we wish we were in love with the most gorgeous girl we'd ever seen' too. Not everybody has a relationship like ours."

Rory smiled. He constantly used the 'L' word and she constantly used it back. But did she feel it still? She looked into his eyes, the profound blue of them tantalizing her, and she shook off any feelings of doubt. What other girl had such an amazing boyfriend? Not many she knew.

They continued down the hall, the deep brown and light blonde hues of their hair contrasting perfectly, hand in hand.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, thanks everybody for a great meeting. I'll see you all next Thursday with your completed pieces and, if I don't see you, everybody have a great weekend! Anybody going to Louise's party?" Rory questioned, as she gathered her documents in the manila folder lying before her.

Everybody laughed as they slowly filed out the door. Between the conversations and laughter, Rory noticed Paris moving towards her through the group. She smiled.

"Hey," Paris said, with a disgruntled look on her face. "Nanny just called me. Turns out my mother had a bad incident with her plastic surgeon and she's in the hospital. I'll have to skip out on coffee for today. I'll see you tomorrow, though?"

Rory smiled. "Of course, Paris. I'll just stop by Starbucks on my way to the club and get myself some. Tell your mom to get well soon from me."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Have fun this afternoon with your grandfather."

"I always do," Rory replied, as she waved Paris through the door. "Now leave. Go see your mom. Where is she staying?"

"Hartford Medical."

"I'll send flowers. See you tomorrow."

She waved and continued gathering things at her seat. She slipped the manila folder and her thick binder in her Chanel tote and started for the bathroom. People greeted her with hello's and smiles, which she all reciprocated, while making a move for the closest exit.

Five minutes later, she approached the bathroom, where two other girls were re-applying makeup. "Hey Rory," one said, the other smiled. Both were concentrating intensely on their masks of Dior and M.A.C.

"Hey Francie. Megan." Rory replied to the two girls as she dropped her purse on the counter. A quick touch of foundation to cover the blemishes of the long day, a dab of mascara, a swipe of clear lip gloss, and she'd be off.

"How are the plans for the prom coming, Megan?" Rory inquired, as she threw everything back in her Chanel.

"They're going great. We're doing a nautical theme this year. It's going to be on a hundred foot yacht. It's going to be wicked."

Rory hoisted her bag on her shoulder once more. "Sounds like it. When do tickets go on sale?"

"In about two weeks. May 1st. You're going right? With Tristan?" Megan asked, with almost a jealous tint to her eyes.

"Of course. Well, I'm off guys. I'm meeting my grandfather for a round at the club. See you both in AP History tomorrow morning, bright and early."

Two goodbye's followed her out. Once she was gone, Megan said, disgruntled, "God, I hate her."

"She's a great girl. You're crazy." Francie replied, with a confused expression.

"She's too perfect. Nobody is that perfect."

Rory sped through downtown, once again stopping at her favorite Starbucks. She knew the servers by name. She parked near the front, hoped out of her Ferrari, and strode to the glass doors. Two boys stood on the sidewalk outside, one in a ski hat, the other with long baggy pants, a sliver of boxer showing from the rear end.

"Hey baby," she heard. The boy with the baggy pants glared at her with lust in his eyes. He scooted a little closer. "How 'bout me and you get together tonight. You know? Have some fun? How's that sound, baby?"

Rory continued walking, rolling her eyes. "Try saying 'you and I' next time and maybe I'll take you a little more seriously." Opening the doors, she entered the Starbucks, breathing deep. The smell of coffee always perked her up.

She suddenly heard her phone ring and, digging it out of her bag, continued to make her selection to Cory, the kid at the cash register.

"Hey baby."

"Hi. Want to come over for a little bit and we can study? Or we could do something else. Whatever you want."

Rory rolled her eyes, as she watched Cory mark on the cup intended for her, without even having to ask her name. "Tristan. Come on. You know I have to go to the club. I've told you this three times." She felt like she was talking to a two year old.

"Maybe I could come?"

"No. I'm meeting my grandfather. I'm going to see you tomorrow at school. And the night after at Louise's. You see me plenty enough to not forget my face, darling."

"Fine. I love you Rory."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

She was about to hang up when he said, "Don't you love me Rory?"

She sighed. "Of course I love you Tristan. You know that. I'll see you tomorrow Tristan. Goodbye."

"Bye Rory."

Rory hung up the phone and let it fall back into her purse. She messed with her bangs at bit and adjusted her headband. Grandpa wouldn't tolerate it if she was late. _'Tardiness is laziness, Rory. Remember that.'_

Rory sighed. "Cory. Man. What is taking so long with that coffee?"

"Rory, there are other people before you. Wait your turn."

"You're lucky I like you, Smith. Or else you wouldn't get a tip for that comment."

He laughed. "Yeah, okay Rory."

She smiled as he turned back to finish someone's order. She pulled up her knee sock to match its twin and glanced around. Then she saw him.

He was looking right at her, an unrelenting gaze. He had dark, chocolate eyes and slightly poofy brown hair. She estimated he spent a lot of time on it to make it look like he didn't spend a lot of time on it. He wore light jeans and a plain white tee. A carton of cigarettes poked out of his pocket. A black leather jacket to top it all off and you had your modern day James Dean. She pondered him for a few seconds when suddenly he spoke. "Hey."

She squinted at him for a moment. "Hi."

"Boyfriend?"

Was he asking her if she had one? How forward of him! People didn't talk like that to her.

He glanced towards her bag and she realized he meant if she was talking to her boyfriend on the phone.

"Yes."

"Asshole?"

"Opposite."

"Interesting."

"Sure."

"Love?"

"Possibly."

"Okay."

Cory called Rory's drink order up and she swiveled her head out of the mysterious guy's range of view. "Um… thanks Cory. Here's a five for tip."

"Thanks Rory. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Bright and early," she replied with an uneasy laugh.

Rory avoided the gaze of the stranger and started walked away. He moved swiftly and caught up with her.

Her brow furrowed. "Stalker?"

"Hardly."

"Interesting."

"Party?"

Rory assumed he had heard her conversation with Tristan.

"Saturday."

"Louise's?"

"Invited?"

"Perhaps."

Rory smiled. "Townie."

"Maybe."

"Rory."

"Okay."

Rory frowned. "Bye."

"Later."

She started walking out when she overheard his name being called for his drink. She didn't know who the kid was or what his deal was but a part of her really didn't want him to come to that party.

But another part did.

_Jess. I'll figure you out,_ she thought. She drove to the club.


	3. Chapter 3

Rory Gilmore-Hayden pulled into the circular drive of the Hartford Country Club. It was a glorious building, all brick, with beautiful landscaping. You could see the layout of tennis courts and just beyond that, the riding stable. If you looked hard enough, you could just see the green, laden with men wielding clubs.

A valet approached Rory and welcomed her, taking her keys. "Thanks Danny!" she waved to him. As she assumed the steps, he yelled back, "Don't mention it, Ms. Gilmore."

She entered the cool country club, a great contrast to the accelerating heat outside. It was the end of April and yet the heat index was higher than usual. She delved into a mass of men wearing polos and suits, along with women in two piece suits and bright colors. All enjoying their four o' clock drinks.

Rory continued to the women's changing room, decked out in marble and cushioned settees and vases of flowers everywhere. Rooms branched off to the sides of the entryway, to rooms you could change into or out of your clothes for an event. A door led to the steam room and another to the bathroom stalls.

Rory entered a changing room and stripped off her Chilton uniform. Golf with her grandfather was usually a very pleasant event, where they'd talk about her goings on at school, the recent books they had read, _The Franklin_, or politics. She tried to spare an hour for nine holes with him at least once a week.

She opened her backpack and pulled out the clothes destined for the green. She slipped on the bright pink Lacoste polo and fixed the turned up sleeve. Pulling on a pair of chinos, she hoisted them up around her waist, along with a brightly colored belt from Vineyard Vine's. She pulled her golf shoes on her feet and folded her uniform neatly back into her bag.

She set her purse on a counter to fix up her makeup and run a brush through her hair. After realizing the heat outside, Rory chose not to spend an hour with thick hair on her neck and maneuvered the long locks into a dignified braid. After replacing her navy headband from school, with a kelly green one that matched her whale belt, she snatched her pearls from her purse and placed them about her throat.

She continued to place her belongings in her locker, stashed her key in her pocket, and sauntered out of the changing rooms, just to run into a very dignified woman.

"Rory Hayden! What a wonderful surprise. Are you here with Emily?" Mrs. Busybody asked, her neatly manicured hand resting on Rory's arm.

"Why, Mrs. Hunter! This is a nice surprise. I'm actually meeting my grandfather here for a round of golf before dinner." She took the friend of her grandmother's hand and smiled.

"Aw. Such a good girl you are. Straub or Richard?"

"I'm here with my grandfather on the Gilmore side. I'm visiting with the Hayden's next week for dinner." Rory responded, mentally rolling her eyes. These club women could be such talkers.

"Wonderful! Do make sure to tell Emily I said hello. And that I'll see her at the next DAR meeting, dear."

"I'll make sure, Mrs. Hunter. Have a wonderful day."

"You do the same, dear."

Rory finally pried her arm from the fifty something woman who looked like she was thirty something and quickly walked to the golf carts.

"Grandpa!" Rory cried when she saw her grandfather talking to an older man.

"Oh, Rory. How good to see you. Are you all set?"

She nodded her head, when she noticed that he was chatting with her headmaster. "Hello Headmaster Charleston. How are you this afternoon?"

"Wonderful Rory, wonderful! Richard, you really should be proud of this granddaughter of yours. She'll go far, I can assure you that my friend!"

"We're hoping a Yalian like her old grandpa here. Wouldn't it be splendid for her to attend my Alma matter? Hm Rory? You are thinking about it right?"

How could he put her in such a position? The whole family knew she was torn between Yale, Harvard, and Princeton. She fumed on the inside, but smiled warily on the outside.

"Oh yes. All my choices are being considered of course. I'll make up my mind soon enough." _We have to get going. I can't keep talking about this._ "Grandfather should we start our game now?"

Richard came to and replied, "Oh yes! Charleston, wonderful to see you again. Give Bitty our love, will you? You'll have to come to dinner soon."

"Oh yes Richard. See you soon."

Richard and Rory climbed into the Gilmore golf cart and set off for the course. It was a long hour in the sun and when Rory finally called a final goodbye to her grandfather, she plopped into her seat and wiped the sweat off her brow. She didn't want to think about the heat, or golfing, or what college to attend. Her mind was still hooked on a certain James Dean character in a coffee shop that she just couldn't seem to get out of her head.


	4. Chapter 4

"Rory, darling, we really need to think about sending your replies soon to the colleges. You need to choose quickly or your spot might be taken. Shame on you for waiting this long to do it."

Blah blah blah. That's all Rory heard as she sat down to dinner with her mother and father in their fifty foot dining hall. Couldn't they give her one break? At all? She was supposed to be their perfect child and did she receive praise? No, just nagging.

"Yes, Mom. I will. It's a hard decision to make. My choice of college will change the outcome of my future indefinitely. What if I choose wrong?"

"Oh, don't be silly. You'll choose perfectly. Yale would be nice. Your grandfather would love you immensely for it. However, your father is a Harvard alumnus and that would be pleasant also. But it's your choice. Maybe you'll just go to Princeton!"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Eat your potatoes, Rory. They'll get cold."

After dinner, Rory asked to be excused and walked slowly up to her room. Her perfect room. Even if the Haydens didn't have a maid at their beck and call, her room would still be spotless. It's how she was. She hated clutter, mess, and chaos. She liked to be in control of everything. Even the maids didn't do it properly and Rory went back and fixed things on her own. She threw herself on her bed and sighed.

Was she in a funk? She didn't feel like doing anything, especially not homework, which was rare for her. Maybe it was just an off night. It's just that everything felt so the same. Maybe that didn't make sense. She needed change, craved it. But her life was so perfectly planned out for her, how could she ever alter the course of the future? Her days were planned, her events were planned, and her wardrobe was planned. She rarely had a choice in the matter. Her mother was as controlling as her.

_Note to self: Don't be overbearing towards your own children, Rory._

She sighed, tossed her clothes in her hamper, and snuggled under the comforter. Even if she was in a funk, that didn't mean she could throw clothes on the floor. Everything went in its own spot.

What a long night this was going to be. She couldn't fall asleep, constantly wondering what was out there that she was longing for. She had love, she had friends, she had family, and she had intelligence. What was she lacking? The question riddled her brain the rest of the night, ending with a very tired Rory Gilmore-Hayden.

Friday at school passed fairly calmly. There was nothing major that could occupy her thoughts. The school was buzzing about Louise's party the next night. Madeline broke up with her boyfriend Scott, causing Rory to miss lunch and spend her period in the bathroom, comforting an angst-ridden Maddie. Tristan surprised her with flowers in her locker, nothing out of the ordinary. Her cell phone ran out of battery. She realized she fell asleep without charging it. She got another A in her Advanced Literature class. Mrs. Potrie claimed it was her best essay yet. She almost forgot about the strange boy she met the day before.

Jess. What kind of name was Jess anyway? He looked and acted the part of a hoodlum and Rory swore she'd have none of it. What was she talking about? It's not like she'd ever see him again. Most likely a once in a lifetime thing. Really, how many people actually meet random people at coffee shops and continue to be acquaintances? Exactly, it's rare. Rory figured she had nothing whatsoever to worry about.

She looked forward to Saturday night, not because the stranger might be there, but because she'd get to spend time with her friends and her amazing boyfriend.

Or maybe, deep inside of her, it was the former.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Rory awoke to a strange buzzing noise. What was that? She was laying on it, obviously. But it persisted. She sat up and looked around. Her eyeliner was smeared from the night before and her hair poofed out into a large, but rather pretty, ball of hair. She turned her head and looked behind her. Her phone.

Who would be calling her this early? What the hell time was it anyway? She peered at her alarm clock. 1:52.

She groaned and fell back into her pillow, while picking up her phone. It was Tristan.

"Hi." Her voice was croaky from sleep.

"Hey babe." Tristan responded. "Please don't tell me you were sleeping."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was resting my eyes."

"That trick doesn't work anymore, Rory Hayden."

Rory groaned into the phone and then got up.

"I need to take a shower. Did you need something Tristan?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to tell you I'll pick you up at eight thirty. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sounds great."

"Love you."

"Mm hmm. See you tonight." And she hung up, so he wouldn't complain about her lack of using a certain endearing word.

She stumbled to the bathroom.

"Rory! Tristan is here for you, darling."

Rory sighed and checked herself in the mirror. "I'll be down in a minute, Mom."

She looked at herself in the mirror and tilted her head. She was wearing 7 Jeans with a simple brown belt. She fit snugly into an old, green Brooks Brothers polo with a delicate strand of pearls around her neck. She slipped into a pair of Rainbows and headed for her bedroom door. She grabbed a Coach wristlet on her way out.

Rory ran down the stairs to see her boyfriend sitting in the parlor with her father. He was reading a newspaper and Tristan was sitting on the velvet couch, looking at the floor. She could understand why he'd be intimidated by her father.

He looked cute in his plaid shorts and red Ralph Lauren polo. His hair was a mess from his convertible and he looked simply shagable. He looked up and saw her, then smiled.

"Bye Daddy! I'll be home later." Rory waved and beckoned Tristan for the door.

A sort of indescribable mumble came from the parlor as Tristan quickly walked out and met her at the door. "Hi," he whispered and dragged her outside for a kiss.

"That was quite a greeting," she replied after a minute, or four, of kissing on the porch. "Do you do that for all the girls you greet? Or am I just special or something?"

He grinned and kissed her again. Then he led her to his Mustang. "I could maybe even give you a better greeting. It involves the backseat and you, just in pearls."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Dirty boy. Do you want to be late?"

"I wouldn't mind," he replied, leaning over and kissing her neck.

"We need to go. My mother's probably watching us right now, salivating, and wishing her husband still gave a damn about her."

"We could give her a show."

"Drive Tristan."

He smiled and put the convertible into drive. "Yes, your highness.

They arrived at the party around nine. The mansion was already packed to capacity. You could tell who the preppies were and who the townies were. The townies dressed in skateboard grunge and fake girls walked around in too tight Abercrombie. That wasn't how it was done at Chilton. You either had class or you were ostracized. Louise only invited the public school kids because Chilton was too small and they were limited on other private schools in the area. You had to have people to party.

Three kegs were set up in the kitchen and a handful of dealers wandered around, searching for innocent souls to spread the wealth to. Kids were already plastered or blazed, according to your poison. Louise was in the corner, completely sucking on a random guys' face. She was probably drunk as hell already. Madeline, trying to forget about Scott, was on the dance floor with a guy from Rory's Physics class. And Paris? Who knows where that girl was?

Tristan leaned over to Rory, and over the music of Rihanna, hollered, "I'm going to get drinks! Don't move." He then kissed her on the neck and sauntered to the kitchen.

Rory had a strange idea that Tristan had already started his party way before the real party began. That was so like him. She didn't like the side of him that continually used. She would do drugs every once in awhile, socially, but never by herself, in her room, with the door locked, like she knew Tristan did.

She watched him walk away and then took in the expanse of Louise's house. It was gorgeous, even larger than Rory's, which was a hard feat to accomplish. Louise's mom had married some shipping millionaire, who was thirty years older than her and now Louise got to reap the benefits of having a rich step-daddy.

Rory wandered around, soaking in the atmosphere, the people. If necessary, if Tristan got too wasted or blazed, or whatnot, she had her book in her bag. She'd done it before, she could do it again.

Tristan found her again and Rory could tell he'd already soaked up a whole beer before he came out. She could smell the drops on his shirt when he enveloped her in his arms and on his breath when he bent down to kiss her, sloppily may I add. He had a smoke in his hand, most likely a blunt, and he sucked on it greedily.

He looked at her with almost glazed over eyes and whispered, "I love you so much, Rory."

She replied, "I know babe. Why don't we go dance?"

He looked at her with sad eyes as she drank her beer. "Don't you love me anymore Rory?"

"Of course I do. Let's go dance."

Defeated, she led him out to the floor. She saw Paris on the sidelines and waved. Paris rolled her eyes and waved back, being chatted up by some 'stupid high school boy' as she would say.

Tristan stood still, smoking, while Rory leaned into him and put her arms on his shoulders. She ground her hips into him and smiled at his response. He moaned a little and then grabbed her waist and moved closer. "I love you Rory."

"Thanks babe."

She suddenly saw his eyes flash with anger and moved back. He threw his arms up in the air and hollered, "If you aren't going to tell me you love me, I'll find somebody else who will!"

She rolled her eyes as he walked away, knowing it was all talk and he'd forget what he said the next day. She moved closer to where her purse was, glad she didn't have any major cash on her, just twenties, and reached in for her book. Clutching it to her chest, she slowly looked for an empty room, or relatively empty, without couples crawling on top of each other in dark corners.

Perching in an office with all mahogany wood and leather chairs, she sat in an overstuffed armchair and opened her Tolstoy. After reading a few pages, she heard a door creak open and she rolled her eyes.

Without turning around, she said softly, "Tristan, you were a bit out of line out there. Next time, why don't you try to speak to me in a manner that isn't alcohol induced?"

She heard nothing for a moment and then turned in her armchair, placing her book down on the desk. It definitely wasn't who she expected.

"As you can see, it's not Tristan."

"Oh look, you can actually speak something other than mono-syllabic words. Alcohol will do wonders for something like that. Really opens you up, eh?"

"I haven't had that much to drink."

"Well, I have."

Rory leaned over and picked up her wine cooler from the desk. She took a long sip and looked at him with squinted eyes. "You showed up, obviously."

"Yeah, couldn't miss out on a stellar party now could I?" he mocked in a surfer type voice.

"Cute. You should go on the road with that act."

"Maybe I will."

There was silence for a moment while he moved closer.

"Tolstoy? Nice choice. Anna Karenina, eh? I read that a few months ago. Good choice," he replied, taking in the sight of her.

"I've read it twice before. It's a good filler book for when I deal with things like this."

They both paused. She looked down while he stared at her.

"Rory. Why are you in here?"

"The party was lame, that's all."

"Your boyfriend is lame, that's all."

Rory sighed. "He really is a good guy. Everybody acts like that when they've had too much to drink. He won't remember tomorrow and everything will go on like normal. It's happened before, it'll probably happen again."

He stared at her. "You are so beautiful, Rory."

She looked down, uncomfortable and warm from her alcohol. She downed the last of it and popped open a Bud. "I don't even know you."

"But you'd like to."

"How could you say that? You don't even know me."

"I do."

"Shut up."

That quieted him for a moment. She was automatically sorry. She didn't say she was though.

"Rory, why are you with Tristan?"

She looked up at him, into his eyes. "Because he loves me. Obviously."

He shook his head. "But you don't love him."

"Of course I do," she scoffed. "You don't know anything. We've been dating for a whole year. Everybody at the club says we're perfect and my parents love him and his parents love me and he's even been to dinner at my grandparent's house and he gives me jewelry and leaves me flowers and notes and he loves me, he does."

"I believe you. So maybe he does love you. So what? You still don't love him."

"I do."

"Stop it Rory."

"You don't even know me. Leave me alone!"

"I can't. I'm immersed with you."

Rory laughed then. She laughed hard. "You're absolutely ridiculous, you know that? Does that line work a lot? I bet it does. You probably use it on every girl and they probably fall for you, with your 'bad boy' look and all. They're stupid."

"But it's happening to you right now."

"Shut up!"

"Stop lying to yourself Rory."

"Shut up! Shut up! I can't deal with this right now!"

He moved even closer, only a foot away now. "Rory. I'm sorry you don't love him. I really am."

She glared at him. "Who are you to come in here, bother me, and tell me things that aren't true? Hm? You suck. I hate you."

He closed in. He looked down at her and smiled a little, a very crooked, half smile that would probably make her swoon if she wasn't getting so drunk. "Rory. I'm sorry."

"Shut up," she whispered.

Maybe the alcohol made her do it. Maybe it was the fact that a boy was telling her things that she knew in her heart weren't true but she denied them out loud. Maybe he was right. This was what happened when you started doubting everything around you and then someone comes in and confirms it. She hated him because he spoke the truth.

"I'm going to Yale. Did you know that?" she asked, zoning out a tad.

"Rory, shut up."

He leaned in, closing the small gap between them, put his hands on her face and kissed her so passionately that her knees quivered, fireworks blasted in her head, hell in the air around them, and made her kiss him back equally as passionate. She couldn't get enough of his taste, his touch, and finally she felt a chemistry there that was lacking with Tristan.

"Jess… "


End file.
